


Little Gifts

by FantasiaWandering



Series: Under Shield [14]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Backstory, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Holidays, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaWandering/pseuds/FantasiaWandering
Summary: During the annual winter celebration of putting presents under a tree, Frisk's gift for Sans doesn't go quite according to plan. Shenanigans are attempted. Surprises are ruined. New gifts are found. Something explodes. And one incredibly horrible Christmas sweater makes its debut.





	Little Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where this story came from, but I'm so very glad it did. After months of fearing that the part of my brain that knows how to write was never going to wake up again, this fell out of it in two days. Here's hoping that many more shake loose in 2018. Happy New Year, everyone!
> 
> (Frisk is 15 or thereabouts in this story. There is a [timeline](http://fantasiawandering.tumblr.com/post/136020214644/under-shield-timeline) that is almost up to date)

The warmth of the little house in the woods wraps you like a hug, and you lean against the doorframe with a soft, happy sigh. The scents of pine and cinnamon from the decorations festoon the house, and the ginger and oranges and other spices from a dozen kinds of baked treats make each breath even sweeter. Like adding a fluffy blanket to the hug.

It seems like you've been celebrating for a month, though given how many of your human friends have dragged you along to their own winter celebrations, that's probably accurate. Moreover, your own traditions surrounding Christmas have been firmly adopted into your new family's annual winter celebration of putting gifts under a tree, and as a result, the whole thing does seem to stretch out into weeks of festivities that lead into the New Year.

Not that you have a problem with that, by any means, but this is the first time in days that you've actually had a chance to slow down and enjoy the silence. At your request, the family gave you and Sans for an extra day in the little house in the woods before you have to return to the city, and your plan is working out perfectly.

Oh, ostensibly, it's because you gave him a new lens for his telescope this year, and the night is going to be a very clear one, and part of your present is teaching him some new constellations. Nobody could argue with that logic. But that's not your only reason for staying behind.

But you can't tell him his real present, or he wouldn't accept it. And for once, he hasn't actually guessed your secret.

You can't help the satisfied grin that steals across your face as you watch him snoring on the couch by the fire. He didn't even stir when you covered him with the fuzzy blanket dotted with little fluffy dogs playing in the snow. It's an accomplishment that makes you disproportionately proud. For all his laziness, he has a habit of waking up when you're moving around, and you're thrilled to finally be able to look after him the way he always looks after you.

The lights on the tree behind him cast a dazzle of colours against the white of his skull, and you wonder if the rainbow reaches his dreams.

Still smiling, you turn away from the cozy sight of the skeleton sleeping beneath the tree, and hitch the strap of your messenger bag more firmly in place as you head toward the door. You pause only long enough to wrap your newest bestie scarf around you a dozen times before you slip out into the fresh, unbroken snow.

The cold stings you like a slap, even through the folds of your scarf, and you stop on the porch for a moment to catch your breath. Undyne calls these ones "snot freezing days," and it's an apt description, but it's beautiful nonetheless. The new snowfall in the clearing around the house remains unmarked by the tracks of animals who know better than to venture out in the cold, but the sky above is clear, and the sun breaks into a thousand points of light from the snow and the ice in the trees. Even the birds are staying at home. Aside from the occasional caw of a crow, there's nothing to break the stillness.

Something tugs deep within you, a reminder of another day like this one over a year ago. The day you started to learn what these little tugs were trying to tell you. The forest you danced through that night is far away from this one, but that distant wood with its ancient lord has something in common with the trees around you. It's right that Mom and Dad always brought you here for your magic lessons, for the trees have a kind of magic of their own. These forests are old, and they dream ancient dreams.

Shaking yourself a little to jog your thoughts out of that spiralling descent, you tug your mittens back on from where they've slipped. Undyne has been branching out since graduating from her beginner knitting class, and if the mitts she knitted you this year are too big because she used Papyrus as a dummy while she was making them, they're warm, and full of love, and the stitches are almost even, and she did braid a string to run through your coat sleeves and stop them from getting lost each time they inevitably slip off, and you adore them.

Your walk to the bus stop takes a while, for though it's not a training day, you feel guilty for not practicing at least  _something_ Undyne has been drilling into you, and it takes concentration to walk across the crust on top of the snow without breaking through. You've got time. The busses are few and far between this far into the woods, but the driver takes pride in his punctuality, and he'll wait at the stop if he's early.

Besides which, you'd really rather not leave a trail that's visible to anyone who should wake up and look out the front window.

You do glance over your shoulder at the thought, satisfied by the pristine expanse of snow between you and the house, and gently scold the whisper of unease within you that there's no reason to feel guilty.

"It's his present," you whisper to yourself, and the fluttering within you settles. You close your eyes, calming your thoughts, and the gentle tug at your core resumes.

The rest of the walk down the winding drive through the woods is uneventful but painfully long, and by the time you reach the road, you're glad you left early. You'd been afraid of having to stand freezing at the bus stop, but as it is, you've made it with only minutes to spare. Even those minutes are enough to steal the heat you've worked up on your careful trek across the snow, and you shiver as trickles of frigid air find their way through the gaps in your clothing. And still, the minutes tick on.

Jamming your hands beneath your arms, you shift from foot to foot, squinting against the snow glare as you peer down the road. The bus should be here by now. A glance at your phone makes your eyes widen, and you catch your lip between your teeth. It stings, for the cold is so sharp that your lips are already starting to crack, but it doesn't distract you from your worry. Something must be wrong. Tightening your scarf, you take a step down the road.

" **yeah, so the bus is gonna be late today.** "

The first word has you yelping, your feet slipping on the crust of the snow as you turn too fast. Sans stands a few feet away, hands nonchalantly in his pockets, and though he's sunk practically to his knees in the snow, there's no trace of footprints behind him.

Your brow furrowing, you glance over your shoulder at the empty road. "You made the bus late? But he's so proud-"

" **oh, not for everybody,** " he says. " **just you.** "

Your stomach sinks. If he's messing with time that much, he's  _really_  annoyed. "Well," you say, making one last attempt at deflecting. "I guess I could just walk…"

" **what's your hurry?** " He hasn't moved, but before you can do much more than lift a foot, you feel a shove at the centre of your chest. It's not rough, and it doesn't hurt, but you're also powerless to stop yourself as you topple backward toward the crusted snow. " **sit a spell, kid.** "

You don't hit the ground. Instead, you find yourself sitting on air. The blue glow fades from Sans's eye as you give an experimental wave at the air around you, but there's nothing for your hands to contact, nothing for you to push off from. You can't do much more than swing your feet above the snow as Sans wades through the drifts toward you. " **eesh, you are getting way too tall,** " he complains, and trudges up the air like a staircase. With a sigh, he drops to a sitting position in front of you, crossing his legs on nothing, but now he's at eye-level with you, and there's no avoiding the question in the darkness of his eyes. " **so,** " he says, and though his voice is casual, the intensity of his stare is anything but. " **nice day, huh? sun is shining. birds are singing-** " He pauses, and the distant crow breaks the silence with a singular squawk. " **-well, bird. perfect day for… running away? what's up with that?** "

It's worse than you thought. You bite down on your lip, fighting the sting of tears but knowing he's too close to miss them. Sure enough, his eyes widen above his fixed grin, and he reaches for you, his hand freezing halfway between the two of you as you look away in a futile attempt to hide your eyes. " **wait... kiddo, you're not…** " His breath catches on a soft, broken sound. " **are...are you *scared* of me?** "

That ends the tears faster than anything else could, and your gaze snaps back toward him. "No!" Your incredulous voice rings through the branches around you, and a shower of snow shakes loose in response. With a squeak, you reach up to cover your head, but the snow just slides off the air above and around the two of you and flumps to the ground below.

He snorts. " **wow. the amount of indignation you packed into that syllable just brought the house down. your teenage superpowers must be coming in.** " That makes you smile despite your mood, but even the sarcasm can't quite mask the relief in his voice. He shifts, resting an elbow on his knee so he can prop his chin on his hand. " **so clue me in, kiddo. why all the sneakery?** "

"I wasn't sneaking," you say, your cheeks heating despite the bite in the air. "Maybe I just didn't want to spoil the view."

" **kid, you are good at a great many things. dissembling is not one of those things.** "

You cross your arms. "How do you know I wasn't just going to the store?"

"' **cause i know the way that brain works,** " he says, giving your forehead a gentle tap with a bony fingertip. " **if you were going to the store, you'd have asked me if i wanted anything first.** " He gestures at your waist. " **and you wouldn't have taken your adventuring bag.** "

You glance down, and bite back one of the curses that you promised Undyne you wouldn't use around your family in case Toriel finds out you learned in from her. You keep most of your stuff in the dimensional boxes in your phone, but your bag contains a number of handy things for when you're in a place where humans might get freaked out by that casual show of magic, or when magic goes too wonky to get at the boxes. Taking it with you on missions has become such a force of habit, you don't even think of it any more.

" **want to try again?** " Sans asks gently.

You nod, but struggle to find the words. Your mittens slipped off during your not-fall, and you lace your fingers together. "I wanted to go out…" But you can't figure out how to finish the sentence without ruining what little shreds remain of your secret gift.

" **...buddy.** " Carefully, he reaches up and tucks a wayward curl beneath the brim of the beret Toriel made you for Christmas. " **you make it sound like we're keeping you prisoner or something.** " Your face turns redder, and you can't even hide behind your hair anymore. Sans tilts his head in response, as though he's trying to figure you out from a new angle. " **you know the rules, kiddo. you can go where you want and do what you want, but if it's ambassador stuff, you need at least one boss monster with you.** "

"I can handle myself around monsters," you say quietly.

" **it ain't the monsters i'm worried about, pal.** "

You flinch, but it's not like you can argue with that. In the last few years, you've shown that there are a lot of good humans in the world. And just as many bad ones.

" **frisk.** "

You look up at him, and wish you hadn't. The concern and hurt on his face cuts you to your core. It's all going wrong, everything slipping out of your control like the snow sliding from the trees, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. "I know the rule. It's just…"

" **wait,** " he says, and now the hurt in his voice is entirely too clear. " **is that what this whole stargazing thing was about? so you could sneak away?** "

A horrified gasp escapes you, and you'd lean toward him if there was any way to move from your current spot. "No! I've had that present planned for months! It's just really bad timing; I didn't know something would start Calling me now and-"

You break off, clapping your hands to your mouth, but it's too late. He stiffens like you've just hit him, and a low groan escapes him as he presses a hand to his head. " **tell me i did not just hear what i think i heard. you're out here answering a *call*?** "

"I know, I know…"

" **you *know* you have to have someone with you to keep you from getting carried away. frisk, what were you thinking?** "

"It's just a little one! I thought I could be there and back before you woke up!"

He groans again, rubbing his hands over his eyes. " **i'm trying real hard to understand why you wouldn't just say something, kid, but you're not making this easy.** " His brow furrows. " **is it *me?*** " His voice softens, but the fact that  _that_ was his first assumption brings the tears to your eyes again. " **did i-** "

He breaks off as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you fight to keep from crying. For a moment, the only sound is the crystal chiming of the icy branches around you as they sway in the wind.

Bony fingers cup your chin, and he gently lifts your face until your gaze meets his. There's no anger in his eyes. Just worry, and care, and patience. You take a shuddering breath, and shake your head. His hand falls away, but your tears are under control for now. "It's not you," you tell him. "I'm upset because I ruined it."

" **ruined what, pal?** "

"Your present."

He blinks, and scratches his head. " **the new lens? what's that got to do with-** "

But now that it's started, you're finding it difficult to stop the flow of words. The need to explain, to make him  _understand_  wells in you like a bubble about to burst, even as you struggle to stop it. "I know I'm supposed to have someone with me when something's Calling, but you're  _always_  with me. Always."

He flinches at that. " **you have to have a boss with you, but kid, it doesn't have to be *me.***   **if you wanted a break-** "

If your feet were able to reach the ground, you'd have stomped one of them. As it is, you have to settle for an exasperated moan. "No, you don't get it! That's not it at all! I was trying to give you a  _vacation!_ "

" **...a vacation?** "

"From me." It's out now, there's no point in trying to keep it secret any more. Your shoulders sag, and you wrap your arms around your middle, unable to look at the hurt on his face any more. "You're always with me when I'm working, but these days I'm  _always_ working. And I know I mess up a lot, and that means you're always working, and you  _hate_  work, and you're  _tired_ , Sans. I can see it. I knew if I said it was a vacation you'd just wave it off and say you were good but I thought that if I asked if we could stay behind to watch the stars, you'd finally get a chance to relax, and sleep, and not have to chase around after me or cheer me up or worry about anything, and it was going  _perfectly,_  but then I got that stupid Call and…"

" **...and you didn't want to interrupt my vacation so i could make sure you're safe?** "

Letting out a moan, you fall backward. You don't get far before the air catches you. "When you put it like that, it just sounds stupid." A little squeak escapes you as the air shoves you back up, and you find yourself staring into Sans' amused eyes.

" **yup. and i know for a fact you're not stupid. which tells me something important.** " He taps your nose lightly. " **you're right about me being tired, and we both know i'm a — how did bradleyweenie put it?** "

You frown at the memory he's calling up of the early days at the Embassy. You and Bradley had your differences, but it took a lot to make you actually  _mad_  at him, and that memory is of one of the few times he actually managed it. "You are  _not_  a lazy, shiftless gadabout."

" **right, that.** " He brushes off your protest with an airy wave. " **if i'm that and *i'm* tired, then you, ambassador—** " He rests his hand atop your head. "—  **you must be exhausted.** "

Even now, after all this time, he hasn't lost the ability to cut right through any brave face you put up with a few friendly, casual truths. With his hand where it is, he can't miss the tremor that runs through you. "That's different," you whisper, and the icy branches chime their laughter at the thought. "I don't have a choice. You do, and I don't want you to get…"

You bite back the words, and for the briefest of moments, you think he hasn't noticed them. There's a chill as his hand leaves your head, and he leans back, resting his elbows against nothing. His head tilts back to look at the trees swaying above you, and he lets out a long breath. " **pretty out here,** " he says, and you don't trust the change in topic for a second. " **reminds me of the garden your dad built in snowdin once.** " He glances at you and laughs. " **yeah, i know, you didn't see it. funny what happens when a guy has a reason to get mad at flowers, and maybe sorta brings half a mountainside of snow down on top of it.** " A chill that has nothing to do with the wind runs through you, and for a moment, you're afraid of where this conversation is going, but after a frozen heartbeat, it veers back into more comfortable territory. " **probably for the best, though. there was this weed that hitched a lift from waterfall that loved the ice flowers, and kept creeping up to choke the life out of 'em. your dad had a heck of a time. he'd get the stranglers off one of 'em and think the garden was clear, but those roots ran deep underground, and they'd keep sending runners up every so often to strangle the flowers again. after a while, it got so bad he'd burn one off, and three more would grow up while he was doing it. i think he was actually kinda relieved when the mountain fell on 'em.** "

You're not sure when either one of you moved, but he's looking at you again, and you're close enough that he doesn't have to reach very far at all to rest his hand against your cheek, the bright flickers in his shadowed eyes searching yours. Searching for strangling vines hiding in the dark. " **so** ," he says. " **how many times do we gotta tell you that no one's gonna get sick of you and send you away before you really believe it?** "

Your breath hitches, but the warmth and the kindness of his touch keep the tears from spilling over. People say that  _you're_  perceptive, but everyone overlooks just how much Sans knows and understands. Papyrus has the knack too, to an extent, but he's often preoccupied with the events of his own life. The only thing Sans seems to be preoccupied with these days is you. And if he hadn't just said what he did, you'd feel guilty about that. Instead, you answer him with a shaky smile. "As many times as I have to tell you I'm not scared to have you around?"

He gives a quiet snort of laughter. " **touché.** " His hand moves to the back of your head, and he lowers his brow to meet yours with an audible bonk.

"Ow," you say, but you can't keep the laughter out of your voice.

It's matched by his as he shakes his head, but he doesn't break that contact with you either. " **yeah, i get it. you're a work in progress. in this family, we all are. but a couple of boneheads like us oughtta be able to get through it okay, don't you think?** "

"...you're sure you don't mind?"

He raises his head. " **frisk…** "

"It's just," you say quickly, before he can finish that disappointed sentence. "Everybody else who looks out for me has the other stuff they do, too, and I know that you've got all your little jobs, but most of the time you're just following after me, and I just… I just don't want to be the reason you don't get to do something else you'd rather be doing. You're so smart, I bet Alphys could really use your help, and you love science-ing, and-"

A bony finger across your lips halts the flood of words. " **kid... i know this is one of those before-things you don't like to think about, but you know what it's like when things get so bad that you just… stop feeling? Not sad, not mad, just…** "

"Nothing," you finish, your eyes wide, and you nod. You know it way too well. It's the reason you went up the mountain. One last, desperate chance to feel  _something_ before the emptiness ate you alive.

" **yeah,** " he says. " **well, i know what it's like, too.** "

His hands are around yours, anchoring you against the dark tide that sweeps up beneath you, and you stare at him in mounting horror. He's not telling you anything you haven't always suspected, but hearing it confirmed, knowing for certain that he's felt it too-

One of his hands frees itself from yours to rest gently over your heart. Your soul doesn't go anywhere, but you can feel the sympathetic pull toward his touch. " **there goes that compassion of yours, making you sad again. bear with me here, kiddo.** " He removes his hand, but your soul still seems heavy in your chest, and you can feel the weight of his words as he speaks. This isn't any easier on him than it is on you. Neither one of you is very comfortable letting the cracks show.

" **when we met, i wasn't in a good place. i had love, papyrus never even gave me a chance on that front, but compassion just made me tired, and hope was practically a memory. without my bro to keep that last ember going…** " he shrugs, picking up your hands again. " **i was pretty close to running on empty. you know that, right?** "

You nod, slowly. Love, hope, and compassion are the things that make up a monster soul. Lose one of them entirely, and the monster falls down, eventually fading to nothing. The thought of that happening to Sans fills you with… with….something pretty terrible.

" **and then came you.** "

Memory shocks through you like the crack of a frozen branch. Like deep footsteps in a silent wood. Like a shadow glimpsed at the corner of your eye beneath endless frozen trees.

_“H u m a n .   D o n ‘ t   y o u   k n o w   h o w   t o   g r e e t   a   n e w    p a l ?”_

You're pulled back to the here and now as Sans lightly shakes the hands he's holding; he's practiced at it enough now that he can tell exactly when you're back, and his grin widens. " **anyway. you know what comes next. and at some point i realized that when i'm chasing around after you, yeah sometimes i may be feel annoyed, or frustrated, or downright terrified, your royal highness ambassador runs-into-fires-** " You fidget at that, but he just snickers, and his hold tightens on your hands until he has your attention again. " **the point, kiddo, is that i *feel.* and i dunno about you, but i can't see that experience getting old any time soon. so don't you worry about me going job hunting or any of those weird notions of yours. i'm good where i am and my boss gets that you come first**."

Your eyes narrow as suspicion nags at you. "Sans, what  _is_  your job?"

He just shakes his head. " **ah-ah. a skeleton has to have *some* secrets. besides which, you're a smart cookie and i'm pretty sure you've already figured it out.** " He lets go of your hands at last, dusting his own off before folding his arms. " **so here's the deal. you can want to spend time with someone else and that's just fine. but don't ever do it because you think i'd rather be doing something else, 'cause i can promise you, kid, it takes one heck of a lot to make me do something i don't wanna do.** " He winks at you. " **we got that in common.** "

"You really really don't mind?"

" **nope. i really really don't.** "

The wind picks up, shaking more snow loose from the trees that falls without touching you. As you watch the glittering flakes surround you, your brow furrows. "But if you have to do something no matter what because it's your job, does it really count as doing something because you want to?"

" **ah, but there's the secret, kiddo.** " He rises to his feet, though there's still a good metre or so between his sneakers and the ground, and stretches until bones pop, sending more snow tumbling from above. " **if you can find someone willing to pay you to do something you'd do anyway?** " He winks again, holding out a hand. " **that's the greatest joke in the world.** "

The air stills, hanging frozen as your gaze shifts from his outstretched hand to that endless, unchangeable, impossibly expressive grin. And as that grin grows brighter, it calls to your own to meet it.

There isn't a single one of the boss monsters in your family that you wouldn't want to have with you on an embassy job or a calling. Not one. You love them all, and you love everything they have to teach you. But Sans...somehow, he has a way of making even the worst, scariest, most frustrating mission  _fun_. He knows exactly how much mischief he can add and still be good. And sometimes, when you haven't had a break in so long you can't remember when the last one was, and you're tired but there's still more work to do, sometimes mischief is  _exactly_  what you need.

You reach out, closing the gap between you, and his bony fingers wrap around your brown ones and pull.

A lot harder than you were expecting.

With a breathless squeak, you find yourself flying toward the grinning skeleton, and the magic that's been holding you up gives way, sending you tumbling to the drifted snow. But there's a substantial amount of soft, squishy skeleton there first, leading the way and padding your fall, which leaves you giggling in the snow until you're gasping for each frozen breath.

"Frisk?"

Shoving your beret up from where it's slipped over your eyes, you look up at the open door of the bus idling next to you and the concerned driver beyond, and a welcoming smile blossoms across your face as you wave at him. "Hi, Gary!"

Gary looks from you to the half-buried skeleton beneath you, and the look on his face doesn't change. "You okay there, sweetie?"

" **yeah, gary, i'm good,** " Sans replies from the snow.

Sans' breath whooshes out of him as you elbow him in the ribs, and you sit up, brushing the worst of the snow off you as Gary's expression shifts from concerned to bewildered and just a little scared. "I'm okay. My brother and I couldn't pass up the chance to play in this amazing snow. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Your-" the bus driver looks again at Sans, and raises a brow, but he's met your parents, and Artie, and even Undyne a time or two. You can see the moment he files it away as another one of those monster things, and he smiles at you. “Well then. You coming to town?"

You look down at Sans' grinning face, and shake your head. "No, thank you. I think we're going to stay here for a while. Thank you for waiting, though."

"My pleasure," he says, and tips his hat to you. "Make sure you bundle up, now. It's cold outside."

You're behind Sans now, your shoulder planted in his back and your feet skidding in the snow as you attempt to shove him back onto his feet, but you pause at that, and nod. "I will. Thanks!"

As you watch the bus go, you remember how much harder it was in the days before Barrier Fall, when buses had to wait for a plough or inch their way through the snow instead of driving on tires enchanted to stay above the drifts. You look down at your hands, your fingers coated with snow where they rest against the hood of Sans' jacket, and glance back at the trees above you, rimed in ice and dancing in the frigid breeze.

"I'm not cold."

" **good for you.** " Sans reaches down to fix the leg that's managed to twist itself on backward, and watches the bus go. " **i think i like him. he's good people.** "

"I'm not cold," you say again, and watch Sans's grin widen as he pretends not to hear. "I wasn't cold in a lot of Snowdin, either." You pull a handful of snow out of your boots and toss it aside. "That's not because Snowdin wasn't a cold place, was it?"

" **imagine that**." He rocks on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. " **almost like you had somebody looking out for you. weird.** "

You smile, and dislodge a chunk of ice from your tangled hair "So…. there's something Calling from somewhere on the other side of town. I was thinking I should go and check it out. You maybe wanna come with?"

" **wow. what a crazy fortuitous coincidence that i should happen to be here for you to ask.** "

Fighting back a giggle, you straighten your beret and do your best to attempt to look dismayed, though from Sans's strangled laughter you're pretty sure you're not pulling it off. "Oh, dear. I think we just missed the bus, though."

" **welp.** " He steps forward, holding out a hand. " **i think i might know a shortcut.** "

You take his hand, squeezing your eyes closed against the dark as a tide of magic swirls around you. For a moment, you wonder if maybe you should have called your parents or Undyne, but you quickly shove the thought away. It was such a tiny, little Call, you might not even have noticed it if the house hadn't been nearly empty. Really, what's the worst that could happen?

* * *

As you emerge from your third shower, your muscles are beginning to stiffen up, and you whine as you hobble to the sun room in your fuzziest, warmest pyjamas, tousling your drying curls along the way. You don't even bother with the couch, sinking down to the floor at the foot of the tree, as close to the fire as you can get without crawling into it. It wouldn't hurt, since this is one of Mom's fires, but it's probably best that you don't. Ever since you started learning fire magic, you and flames can be a somewhat unpredictable mix.

With a weary groan, you flop backward onto the carpet next to where Sans is sitting.

" **you smell like gingerbread,** " he says, earning yet another groan from you.

"I got all the molasses out this time." You pick up a curl, eyeing it suspiciously, but you don't see any stickiness left. "I think."

" **man,** " he says, leaning back and stretching his slippered feet toward the fire. He's wearing his new Christmas sweater - an elaborate construction sporting a reindeer with lights twined around its antlers and far, far too much tinsel - and as he moves, the tinsel catches the firelight, making you wince and cover your eyes. " **i can't wait to tell tori about this tiny little call we went on.** "

You drop your arm, eyes wide with alarm. "Don't you dare."

His grin widens as he presses a button in the cuff of his sweater. The lights on the reindeer's antlers begin to flash in rainbow colours as a tinny, shrill rendition of "Jingle Bells" fills the air. " **sorry, i didn't catch that.** "

Wincing against the pain in your head, you grab hold of his sleeve and turn the obnoxiously loud sweater off. "Sans. Please don't."

" **it was 'a tiny little call,' wasn't it? you'll be back before i miss you, i believe you said?** "

You smile up at him, giving him the best puppy eyes you have in you. "But it worked out okay, right? The river's happy, the river monsters are happy, and the people in the town are so excited about switching their industry back to fishing now that the monsters are going to help, they didn't even mind the exploding factory." You consider that. "Much."

" **uh-huh.** " He shifts, looking down at you. " **so one question. if i hadn't come after you when you sneaked out of the house, who would have pulled you out of the molasses when you went under?** "

Biting your lip, you reach out and turn his sweater back on. It gets a laugh out of him, but he shuts it back off again in short order and looks at you expectantly.

" **yeah. thought so. and when was the last time you got real determined?** "

You grab the cowl neck of your fluffy pyjamas and draw it up over your face. It was… an awfully long time. You didn't go in there prepared to die, and even if you  _could_  have gone back to try again, which you're never as sure about these days as you were during your adventures underground, you would have had an awful lot to do over.

Sans tugs your cowl back down. " **relax, kid, i'm not gonna tell your mom. but you know what i'm gonna lecture you on, right?** "

Nodding miserably, you wrap your arms around yourself and try not to sniffle. He's right. You do still smell like molasses. "I know." You look up at the tree, its lights winking cheerfully at you. "I think… I think it's gonna be a long time before those choking vines stop growing back. They're good at hiding so deep that I don't even know they're there till they spring up again." You look back at him, and do your best to smile. "But I am trying. I promise, I really am."

" **i know you are.** " He tousles your hair. " **that's why you're my favourite human.** "

"Even more than Betty White?"

He taps a thoughtful finger against his chin. " **well, it's stiff competition. but yeah. even more than betty.** "

"Wow," you say quietly.

" **and i think i can skip the lecture for now. i got something else in mind.** " He shifts over, patting the carpet in front of him. " **c'mere pal. i have a present for you.** "

You push yourself to your knees, flinching as another flash of pain jabs through your skull. "How come you didn't give it at the annual winter celebration of putting presents under a tree?"

" **seriously, can't we just call it giftmas?** "

"No," you say, crossing your arms. "That puts the emphasis on the gifts."

" **and 'annual winter celebration of putting presents under a tree' doesn't?** "

You sniff delicately. "It's a subtle but important distinction."

" **eesh, you are sounding more like your mother every day.** "

"Really?" you say, beaming. "Thank you!"

" **all right, all right. quit stalling and get your butt over here.** "

He takes your wrist, tugging gently but insistently until you're seated in front of him, your knees practically touching his. Your smile fades at the darkness in his eyes. This isn't a joke any more.

"Is this the part where you bring the mountain down?" you ask softly.

" **nah.**   **we're good.** " He rubs at the back of his skull. " **but i wouldn't be the smartybones you think i am if i didn't expect there's gonna be another time when you end up barging into trouble without backup.** " He holds up a finger to forestall your protest. " **i know you're trying. i know you won't mean it. but i know *you,* kiddo. you get so fixed on doing what's right sometimes that you'd jump straight into hell without a backward glance if someone told you it'd help 'em.** " He gives a deep, heartfelt shudder. " **i would *really* rather not have to fish you outta there.** "

You bow your head, wishing you could just shrink into yourself and disappear, and he rests his hand lightly against your hair. You catch a flash of green out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly, though your muscles are still stiff and sore from the efforts of the day, the splitting ache in your skull is gone.

" **so,** " he says, and prods you in the ribs, surprising a giggle out of you. " **i want to give you something that'll help you get out of trouble next time you unavoidably get in it.**   **but there's a catch.** "

There's a tension around the hollows of his eyes that stops you from answering with a flippant remark. Sans is rarely completely serious, but that doesn't mean you can't recognize it when he is. "What is it?"

" **i know you don't like the dark,** " he says. " **but for this to work, you're gonna have to trust me.** "

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a startled gasp. He's not just talking about the house with the lights off. There's only one kind of dark he can mean. The dark that always sets your heart racing even from the solid protection of his arms when he pulls you through it. The dark that's full of whispering shadows and secrets you don't want to know. "You're going to teach me how to take a shortcut?"

Laughter bursts from him, and he wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. " **heck, no, your mom would immolate me. i'm not even sure you *can* shortcut with skin on, and i'm fairly sure you wouldn't have any when you finished.** "

You look down at your hands, and give him a rueful grin. "Yeah. Let's keep the skin on for now."

" **this isn't a short cut. you're not pushing yourself into the dark. it's more… shining a light into it.** " He reaches for your hands, and you lift yours to meet him. As his fingers close around yours, you can feel the threads of his magic tangling themselves around you. But it's different from anything he's done to you before. It's less the push and pull of blue magic, and more a… a bridge. A path to something else, and suddenly you're aware of something vast and impossibly big stretching out beyond the edges of your awareness.

Memory sinks its teeth into you.  _An icy night. The frosted branches of a skeletal tree. Stars falling all around you as blue magic sinks deep into your soul, and you're crying in the dark. "I can't leave you all alone—"_

" **frisk. come back, kiddo.** "

You shake yourself, your hold on him growing stronger as you cling to this reality, and you can feel his magic tightening around you in response, holding you to the present as your thoughts try to slip away from you. "What are you going to do?"

" **maybe nothing,** " he says with a wink. " **we're in uncharted territory, here, not gonna lie. maybe i'm just gonna teach you how to give yourself a pretty spectacular headache.** " More magic swirls around you both, enough that you can see it as blue fire on the periphery of your vision. " **but if this works, i'm giving you a way to call for help so no matter where you are or what's happening to you, i should be able to hear it.** "

Memory again, tearing you away from the hold of his magic. You're so small again, and alone, and afraid. Every inch of you is hurt, every inch of you has been broken time and time again, and you've fallen into the dark, and you call for help, but nobody came.

_But nobody came._

You don't even realize you've said the words aloud until the feel of Sans' hands cradling your face and his worried voice calling your name drags you back again, and you find yourself staring into the light flickering deep within his eyes. There's hurt there, and understanding. He may not know exactly what happened to you seven years ago, but he knows enough. Knows why those memories dog you and keep dragging you back into the dark.

" **yeah** ," he says softly, though he doesn't let you go. " **let's see what we can do about that.** "

This time you can't help the tear that slips free. "I don't want to be alone."

" **you won't be. you've got us, kiddo. you've got me. when you get lost, i promise i'll always come looking.** " Gently, he wipes the dampness from your cheek. " **now let's make sure i can find you.** "

You nod, and take a trembling breath. "I'm ready."

" **good.** " And as you stare into his smiling face, you watch the light vanish from his eyes and the dark rise up to meet it. And you know the answer to his question before he even has a chance to ask it.

"I trust you," you whisper.

His grin seems to brighten until it's the only thing you can see as the darkness rises up and pulls you under, cradled in a web of burning blue.

* * *

Some time later, your head falls against Sans's shoulder with a quiet groan. You're no longer feeling stiff and sore; now it feels like your bones have been put through a blender and poured back into you. Sans puts his arm around your shoulders, which is probably the only thing that keeps you from sliding to the ground, and rests his head against yours.

" **you okay, kid?** "

You give the question the due consideration it deserves. "Is it supposed to feel like my skin is loose?"

" **can't say as i have a lot of experience there, buddy.** "

You suppose you should feel alarmed, but instead you just hold up a hand until it's silhouetted against the fire. Even that much feels like you're lifting a ton of bricks. "Is my skin gonna fall off?"

He laughs, but not unkindly, and takes your hand with his free one. There's a faint glow flickering between the bones of his fingers, and almost instantly, you start to feel better. Not great, but significantly less like you're made of noodles. " **i think you're good, pal.** "

"Mmm." You watch for a while as a faint trace of green whispers up your arm beneath the skin, following the line of your veins. "Do you think it'll work?"

" **don't think we'll know for sure unless we test it when you're alone and in trouble, which is not a situation we're gonna put you in just to see if this half-baked scheme works.** " He places your hand in your lap with an affectionate pat, the green glow fading away as he does so. " **but i think if any human can make it work, it's you.** "

"I'm tired," you say. Sans picks up a mug that you are certain wasn't there a minute ago, and presses it into your hands. It's only half as hard to lift the mug as it was to lift your hand a moment ago, and the cocoa within it fills every inch of you with warmth. With a happy sigh, you take another sip. It should be burning you, given the amount of heat pouring into your hands. But it isn't.

" **it's late, buddy. you should be getting to bed.** "

Your mouthful of cocoa goes down wrong, and you double over coughing. The mug vanishes from your hands a moment before Sans thumps you on the back, and you stare at him as soon as you can catch your breath. "Nuh-uh! What about your present?"

He turns a pained look on you. " **kid, i don't think my heart can take another one of your vacations.** "

"No, not the vacation." You gesture at the window and the dark star-dusted sky beyond. "The telescope. The stars."

" **frisk. buddy. you're spent.** " Your curls ended up even more tousled during his impromptu lesson, and he brushes a few of them out of your eyes. Maybe it's just that he doesn't have any, but he always finds it hilarious when your hair refuses to cooperate with you. Somehow it always stays put when he moves it, though. " **your eyes are starting to look like mine, kiddo. you don't need to stay up-** "

"No," you interrupt. "I  _want_  to. It's important."

" **kid-** "

You poke the button on his sleeve, and the rainbow lights of the sweater dance across both of you as the tinny melody fills the air.

You don't need to say it. He's known you long enough to know Determination when he sees it. You watch his resolution waver, and you grin when you see it break, and then he's laughing as his arms come around you. " **hold on. we'll take a short cut.** "

With a quiet squeak of delight, you bury your face against his shoulder, ignoring the scratching of the tinsel against your cheek, and your fingers knot in the knit as that familiar tearing sensation tugs behind your breastbone and the cold and dark surrounds you. The melody is distorted now, stretching and bending in the nothing you're suspended in, but it drowns out the sighs and whispers in the dark. And between one breath and the next, it's over, and you're on the roof next to Sans's telescope, the new lens already in place.

Eventually, you both get sick of Jingle Bells and he turns the sweater off again. But your heart is still full of light and song as you adjust the telescope, training it toward the sky. It's set for his height, and you're tall enough that looking through the lens is almost uncomfortable until he gives you a smug grin and shoves you backward, and rather than falling off the roof, you're sitting comfortably on nothing.

Your delighted laughter makes him smile wider, and he makes room for you at the eyepiece, and you let your words and stories guide him through the skies above. You don't tell him that you exhausted your father's knowledge of stars and constellations from your childhood years ago. You don't tell him of the hours spent at the library pouring over astronomy journals and books of constellations from cultures around the world. Because even now, seven years after the Barrier fell and you led him out of the Underground, he still turns his face to the night sky with a look of pure, unguarded wonder.

At some point, as you focus in on a distant nebula, you realize that despite the fact that you're on the snowy roof in nothing but your pyjamas and a pair of fuzzy socks, you don't feel the cold.

It's worth every moment of study and frustration and the headache of deciphering academic jargon in scientific journals to hear the amazement in his voice. It's worth it to know you've brought your sad, strange, incomprehensible skeleton brother a moment of unadulterated joy. In this moment, you don't even notice how tired you are.

He's given you a light in the darkness. It's only right that you give him back the stars.


End file.
